His eyes narrowed. Loki knew what she was planning. He did have a sharp mind when he wasn't distracted by something else. Right now he had neither deceit nor sex on his mind. What was at the very front of his mind was the vision of Sigyn dragging his sorry ass back to Asgard like an invalid. And Heimdall at the very least would see them before he could convince Sigyn to let him off and hobble his way back up Bifrost. It would be something that that jerk would tell everyone and then once again Loki would be the joke of Asgard.
No. Just no. Even if it took him a million years he was getting to Asgard on two or more feet. What sort of man was he if he let her drag him back. No man at all.
“No,” He said firmly and tugged his shirt on. “I know what you are planning and the answer is no. I'm going to get enough flack for having been shot in the ass to begin with. If I don't get back to Asgard by foot it will be even worse.” He would be mocked endlessly for being so helpless a woman had to help him get home. “I don't care if it takes a century, I'm not letting you drag me.”
As if to prove that he could walk, he sort of hobbled his way over to his pack, wincing each time weight had to be put on the bad leg. Bending over he grabbed his pack and hefted it up so he could dig through it. Pulling out a hatchet, he handed it to Sigyn. He had an idea for a compromise. “If you really feel the urge to chop wood, you could maybe mind something I can use as a crutch.”